The 12th hour a poem dedicated to Luna…and the Man in the Moon
Moon high in the sky looking down on us.
I see the face of a boy child in 3-D, just my brother and me.
It’s hard to determine his nationality.
He has a tapered haircut and a friendly face.
I first saw him many moons ago, his expression reflected on a computer screen under the protective canopy of the Great Lakes and the state it nestles in-between.
If you turn your head just so, you will see another little person, a little girl that my boyfriend says matter-of-factly looks just like me… a little Shirley Temple in the sky.
The glory and pride I feel inside was discovering this feat with my brother who is like no other.
We spare no time to uncover the mysteries of the sky when we can.
We almost fell asleep laughing into the wee hours of the night, yet for the record please let it stand he does not allow me to fall asleep in his room.
I’ve grown too old for this I know, but I still try to stay up, just to get a few more laughs in before it’s gets too late.
Until the next visit, at least we know, we all share the same moon from down below.